


Outtakes and B-Rolls

by AndreaLyn



Series: all the stars above and below [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Celebrity, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-12
Updated: 2016-08-06
Packaged: 2018-05-13 12:34:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5708290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AndreaLyn/pseuds/AndreaLyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ficlets from the <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/5589388/chapters/12879955">ready for my close up, mr. dameron</a> 'verse</p><p>Chapter 5 (<b>how to make a trash bag look good</b>): Finn's a very handsome man and when Poe brings him on set as an extra, it causes a little professional strife.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. the sex tape scandal

In Finn’s experience, early morning phone calls usually mean there’s an emergency, someone is dead, or someone’s winning something like a lottery (except he doesn't remember buying a ticket). At least, that’s until he'd met Rey, at which point early morning phone calls expanded to include anything she wants to talk about before the sun’s reached a decent height because she can't possibly wait.

This morning, it’s not insanely early, but Poe is already out of bed feeding BB-8 breakfast before getting into his workout routine and Finn is trying to sleep in because he doesn’t have to work until noon.

The abrasive sound of Rey’s voice wakes him up.“Why did I let that girl near my phone?” he bemoans, ignoring Poe’s traitor laugh from the next room as Rey’s ringtone (her voice sharply barking his name) repeats again and again. He fumbles for it sleepily, draping an arm over his eyes before picking it up. “What?”

“I cannot believe you made a sex tape! I can’t believe you made a sex tape and didn’t tell me about it! I thought I was your best friend…”

If Finn thought he’d been tired, he’d been sorely mistaken because this is like a splash of icy water over his head that yanks him straight to alertness. Rey’s practically screeching at him and Finn doesn’t blame her, because first of all, what the hell? And second of all, what the hell? Instinctively, he searches the room for cameras, but Poe wouldn’t do that. Not just because he values their privacy, but they have a lot of kinks that Finn is sure Poe doesn’t want the wider world to know about.

And yet…

“Rey,” he interrupts her rant (she’s moved onto something about public decency, morals, and his flexibility). “Hey, whoa, Rey, hold on. I’ve never made a sex tape.”

“Knowingly.”

“He wouldn’t,” Finn argues heatedly. “Look, I’ll call you back later. Okay?”

“Fine,” Rey grumbles. “If it is your sex tape, you’re getting a bit doughy in the middle.”

He is absolutely not because he’s never worked out so much in his goddamn life thanks to Poe’s training for his movies, which means that it can’t be him. Can it? He hangs up his phone and grabs his laptop, eyes widening when his google alert is nearly three pages long and article after article is more of the same.

_Poe Dameron and his lover let loose._

_Poe D’s Sexy Adventure_

_We’d Have Thought He’s The Bottom_

“Poe!” Finn shouts frantically. “You made a goddamn sex tape of us?”

He hears one of the weights drop from the home gym and then the sound of pounding feet before Poe ducks his head into the bedroom, gaping unattractively at Finn (oh, who the fuck is he kidding? Finn hasn’t managed to see him when he’s unattractive, not even when he’s just waking up first thing in the morning). Finn’s scrolled through the clip but hasn’t had the stones to hit play, getting it to the midpoint before Poe makes it to the room.

“Finn, babe, I didn’t.”

Finn turns the screen around and gives Poe a pointed look. “It’s on every website.”

Poe squints as he gets closer, letting out a bark of a laugh. “Finn.”

“No, this isn’t funny! I don’t want endless sex puns about my name online!”

“Really?” Poe deadpans. “Because I wouldn’t know anything about that, having heard every last ‘he’s got the D’ jokes in the history of the world.” He leans forward and rubs his fingers in circles along the mouse, softening. “Finn,” he scolds gently. “Did you even watch this?”

“I don’t need to watch our sexploits.”

Poe turns the laptop around and presses play. At first, it’s all Finn can do not to wince at the heavy breathless moans, the way Poe’s voice keeps going up and up, like he’s trying to audition for porn with this tape. He tries not to look, but his attention is drawn to the sweaty, glistening sheen of Poe's bare ass and the undulation of his hips as he rocks forward, his back muscles arching in a slow, fluid motion. Then, he notices it.

“I don’t have a mole on the back of my neck.” And the guy _is_ sort of doughy. Actually, come to think of it, now that he’s looking closer, Poe looks a whole lot younger in this film and has hair about twice as long as he currently wears it not to mention the fact that he’s slicked up like he’s ready for greek god wrestling. Finn closes the laptop, but the noises still carry over for a few seconds, including Poe’s frantic moan that’s doing a lot of unpleasantly timed things to Finn’s cock right about now. “I’m guessing not a real sex tape?”

“Student art house film when I was eighteen.”

“Okay, well, you have a type if you had any say in the casting,” Finn accuses, “and I didn’t know you could do that. Are your legs still that flexible?”

Poe licks his lips and bears in on Finn. “Do you want to call Rey and explain the situation to her? Or do you want to find out?”

Finn bites his lip hard, reminding himself that Rey is his best friend and he really shouldn’t ignore her. Only, Poe is staring at him and he’s already half-naked and glistening with sweat from his workout and, well, Rey’s his best friend. She’ll understand.

“Get down here.”

Thirty minutes later, with an ice pack between Poe’s legs, a recalcitrant look on Finn’s face, and several text messages sent to Rey, they know a few things. First, Poe really isn’t that flexible anymore. Second, the internet is now clamoring for an actual sex tape, and third, Finn is actually starting to consider a private version.

“Want me to kiss it all better?” Finn teases, prying the ice pack away.

“Just don’t break me anymore,” Poe replies warily, gently lying back on the bed and grinning up at Finn as he presents himself at his mercy.

“Yeah, yeah, old man,” Finn teases. “Just be good or I’ll tell the whole internet about what you really do like."

”It’s not hard to shut Poe up, really. It just takes the right mouth, the right pressure, and a pair of talented hands and Finn’s in possession of every last one of those things. He’ll call Rey back later and explain. Then he’ll probably have to live down the internet’s wrath, but right now? He’s got a much more important task at hand (and mouth).


	2. and the award goes to...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finn makes a deal: if Poe wins, he'll see new stars he never realized existed, and if he loses, then Finn will make it all better.

“It’s way too early for this,” Finn protests as Poe loads up their bags, only stopping to bundle up Finn in the woolen coat he’ll need until they land on the warmer coast. Finn’s in the process of slumping back to sleep when Poe leans in to flick his collar up with a grin, brushing his nose against Finn’s before giving him a slow kiss, as if that’s somehow a substitute for more sleep (or blessed caffeine) to fight against the early hour of the morning.

They have twelve hours to get to Los Angeles, but since this is the first time Finn’s taken the time off work to join him for an awards show, Poe wants to get there with plenty of time to spare.

“Why does this hour of the day exist?” Finn complains, half asleep against the Cessna as Poe gets the last of the bags in. Finn fights off the exhaustion long enough to lean forward and tug on Poe’s scarf to pull him in for another more intense kiss.

“Because, Mr. Dameron, you’ve been out of training for too long and you think five AM is early,” Poe mumbles against Finn’s lips when Finn finally lets him go.

“Not all of us have insane call times,” Finn sighs, climbing into the plane. “Some of us are allowed to sleep in now that they’ve earned it.” He buckles up and turns his sleepy gaze on Poe, grinning idiotically as he reaches over and slides his fingers through Poe’s grey curls, winding them between his fingers. “You should stop taking so many roles, you know. You’re not twenty anymore. Hell, you’re not even thirty anymore.”

Even though Poe’s tried his damn best to keep it off the internet, he’s recently turned fifty-two.

If any reporter asks, Finn will say that Poe isn’t a day over forty-five because he knows which side of the bread his marriage is buttered on. That anniversary is coming up soon and Finn’s still struggling to figure out what to get for not only their fifteenth wedding anniversary, but also the twentieth since they first started dating.

Poe leans over once he gets the engines going, cupping Finn’s neck with his hand. “Go to sleep, babe,” he says, sliding on his headset as he starts flicking the switches to get them going. “We’ll land in Colorado for a quick fuel-up and then it’s LA, baby!” he crows over the headset with glee.

Finn buries his face in his coat to hide the exuberant joy that Poe always seems to drag out of him, closing his eyes and letting his mind turn over ideas about what you get a man who regularly gets handed golden statues from the general public.

His dreams are happy, mellow and soft. He dreams about Poe when they first met – young and charming and cocky, with his insecurities roughing the edges. He dreams of that first date and in the dream, they go back to Finn’s place and fuck because even exhausted, Finn’s mind wants him to get laid. When he wakes up, they’re taking off again, which means that Poe’s refueled without even jostling him awake.

There’s also a cup of coffee and a bagel sitting in front of him, which Finn sleepily reaches for with fond appreciation, picking away at it as he curls into his seat and watches the joy on Poe’s face when he flies. 

Finn would say that the years have been kind to Poe, but it’s not so much the years as it is Poe’s determined beauty regimen that keeps his skin glowing, his hair healthy, and his body in fine shape. Poe’s been pretty vocal about keeping his hair natural when he can, allowing the greys to shine through, and only dyeing it when it makes sense for the role. It’s quickly grown to be one of Finn’s favorite things about Poe.

Even though Finn’s a few years younger than Poe, his good looks come from good genes. He can still keep up with Poe on the red carpet for premieres, which he’s been walking with him a lot more these days. He’s not exactly retired, but ever since he’d started picking up a few consulting gigs with the film company Poe likes best, he’s started to transition to a new role that lets him travel the world with Poe a little more, tucked away in this plane of theirs.

“You’re staring,” Poe accuses over the headset.

“I was just counting the new greys,” Finn replies, sipping his coffee.

He laughs as Poe flips him off and Finn settles comfortably into his seat as they make the last hop of the journey to LA. By the time they land, Finn feels awake and refreshed, which is a good thing because they only have six hours before the ceremony begins and Finn gets to sit beside Poe for the first time while he’s nominated for a supporting actor award for his latest miniseries. 

In the past, Finn’s always let Poe have this not because he didn’t want to come, but because it always felt like they were in two separate worlds. Now that he’s older (and inevitably wiser, even if Rey gives him a dubious look whenever he makes that comment), he knows that he wants to share in these moments of Poe’s, as much as Poe’s been sharing in Finn’s joys and victories.

Besides, after the last show, Finn doesn’t want to get a phone call in bed about how much fun Poe is having, while the sounds of revelry practically drown out his voice.

This time, he wants to be there for the ritual.

They head to a penthouse suite in a hotel that looks more expensive than most of Finn’s wardrobe and has to remind himself that not only is Poe used to this, but he should be, too. It’s not like their house is a shack or anything. They order in room service and nap while the TV drones on in the background, curled up in a pile around each other until Poe’s alarm goes off and the beauty rituals begin.

Poe’s the one who’s going to be under a magnifying glass for this thing and takes ages longer than Finn, who manages to shower, dress, and primp in thirty minutes total. He lays sprawled on the bed, dressed in his burgundy tuxedo with his bowtie perfectly done up, yawning as the nap from earlier seems to linger.

“You’re going to wrinkle the suit,” Poe warns, fidgeting with his tie in the mirror.

Finn shrugs, shifting himself so he can prop himself up on his elbows and watch as Poe gets ready. “As if anyone’s going to give me a second look when you’re there?”

“Please, the gossip magazines love you,” Poe retorts. “Get up here and help me with this tie, would you? I still can’t do them up for the life of me.”

“No, you can’t,” Finn agrees, pushing himself to his feet. “It’s a good thing you slipped this in the vows, or I might not feel like helping you.” He steps in behind Poe and takes delight in pressing his body flush against Poe’s as he wraps his arm around him and helps to knot the bowtie with great slowness, sliding his thumb up and down Poe’s neck (blunt nail digging into the start of stubble).

They stay like this for a long moment, Poe breathing out shakily.

“Much more of this and I’m gonna have to give the show a skip.”

“Not a chance,” Finn replies. Poe whines sharply, and Finn buries his grin against Poe’s shoulder. “How about a deal?”

“Interesting. I’m listening.”

“If you win the award tonight, I’ll make you see stars you could never find at a show like this with just these two lips alone.”

“And if I lose?” Poe suggests.

“I’ll just have to make you feel better,” Finn says sweetly, grinning when Poe seems to take Finn’s offer, licking his lips as he steps away and runs his fingers through his hair as if he needs to do anything with it to make it attractive. “Oh, come on,” he protests. “It’s perfect. You’ve already had the stylist come in and nod at you.”

“Just making sure it’s arranged perfectly so we can compare the before and after,” Poe says with a wink. 

“How long do we have before we have to go?” Finn asks, trying to make his curiosity sound off the cuff and casual.

Of course, Poe knows him way too well by now.

“Not enough time to do _that_ ,” he retorts wryly, smoothing down the lines of his suit. He extends his elbow out to Finn, looking every bit the debonair handsome man that Finn fell in love with all those years ago. “Shall we?”

There’s no time like the present to start experiencing Poe’s world.

“Don’t go forgetting our deal,” Finn murmurs as he leans in to speak the words in a hush. 

“Oh, you bet your handsome ass I couldn’t if I tried.”

* * *

Everything is more overwhelming than Finn could ever anticipate. He feels half blind from the cameras on the red carpet and the deafening shouts from Poe’s fans remind him that he’s not the only one ridiculously in love with the man. The smiles he gets from Poe does assure him that he’s the only one getting that love back, at least.

Even the event itself is beyond Finn’s expectations. He swills champagne and eats food so fancy that he’s pretty sure it’s the equivalent of a week’s salary. Poe’s costars are as friendly as ever and pleased to see Finn finally joining in on the festivities. The night draws on in a crazy blur and before he knows it, the award Poe is nominated for is being presented.

Just like that, they call Poe’s name as the winner and it takes Finn a second to process that _Poe’s won_. Finn’s practically knocked over with secondhand joy, barely able to do more than stand and applaud, so he can’t even imagine how Poe feels every time this happens.

It makes him wonder, as he applauds so hard that his hands hurt, why he ever thought this was something that Poe should have to keep to himself. His cheeks aching from smiling, Finn vows to never miss another event with Poe from here on out.

* * *

Finn’s waiting for Poe at the after-party, having left the table after Poe’s win. He’s brimming with his own adrenaline and excitement, sure that there’s going to be a dozen comments online about the magnitude of his heart-shaped eyes, not to mention the bit where he’d started tearing up when Poe thanked him in his speech for being the reason he kept taking on more and more challenges, because Finn makes him want to be a better man.

He smiles politely at other celebrities getting out of their cars and passing him (Finn’s sort of numb to these kind of run-ins, by this point), but he’s still so high with energy that when Poe’s car finally arrives, Finn nearly mauls him as he rushes the carpet to grab hold of Poe and drag him off behind the curtains, off to where dark hallways hide them.

“Finn, babe, you look so damn good,” Poe marvels, still way too done up for Finn’s liking. 

He needs to do something about that right now. That’s why he’s so willing to let his hands do their own bidding, coaxed on by way too many glasses of champagne and the image of Poe practically glowing in front of him. The bowtie is the first thing to go, dropped to the floor as he bears in on Poe, nudging him back until Poe’s back hits the wall and he gets the most perfect little sound out of Poe.

“Hey,” Poe murmurs, voice lower and half-breathless. “What else is wrong about what I’m wearing?”

Finn slides his palms down Poe’s chest, gleeful as Poe arches into the touch, and then just when he’s reached the hem of his trousers, he lets them move back up to pop the first button of his shirt. That’s not enough, so he goes for the second, grinning devilishly when that reveals the slightest patch of graying chest hair.

“We’re way too old for this,” Poe protests with a moan.

“Speak for yourself,” Finn says in reply, “With all that booze and you looking so damn good, I feel nineteen again.” 

Poe opens his mouth to protest, but chokes on whatever words he’s about to say seeing as Finn’s just as clever as ever and knows that getting on his knees in front of Poe is pretty much the second-best surefire way to shut him up (the first being getting naked, but he doesn’t think that’s a good idea when people are about fifty feet away at any given time right now).

Hell, this might not be a good idea, but he’s already down here and toying with Poe’s zipper, so he figures he might as well go all the way.

“If you’d been at the Oscars with me ten years ago, I think I might’ve had to present with a hickey and blowjob lips,” Poe complains, tilting his head back against the brick wall. “Fuck, Finn,” he growls. “So, do I get to collect on the deal?”

“What the hell do you think I’m doing?” Finn asks wondrously, hands gripping Poe’s hips. “Be good and don’t make too much noise.” 

He licks his lips and gets Poe’s cock out of his trousers, inching his way closer while holding on and teasing him around the head, no more than a brush of lips here, a light suck there, his tongue curved and applying the kind of pressure he knows Poe likes so much. He also knows that Poe hates getting teased like this. He keeps on like this, only giving Poe so much before backing off, offering pleasure and then nothing.

Finn’s plan starts going exactly to plan when Poe starts begging desperately thirty seconds later.

“Okay,” Poe gets out between little puffs of breath. “Okay, what have I gotta do? Huh? Finn, c’mon. C’mon, you love me, don’t you? You gotta give me a little more than that.” 

Not bad. Finn rewards him with one good, hard suck.

Poe lets out a cry so loud that Finn actually thinks security might show up and arrest them. They’d definitely get their faces in the papers with a lot of unwanted press for this little stunt (though Snap’s always fond of telling Poe that it’s always gonna get people looking at him).

“Oh, Finn,” Poe exhales, sinking a little against the wall. “This should go on your resume.” He slides his palm over Finn’s hair before cupping his neck to hold on, trying to coax him onwards. “I love you.”

There are the three magic words he’s been waiting for. 

Finn abandons teasing and works his way to take Poe deep in his throat, his fingers pressing marks into Poe’s hips as he coaxes his husband to rock forward and push even deeper, giving Finn the chance to bring him to the edge.

Poe scrambles to grab something, ending up with fistfuls of Finn’s coat as he tenses up, coming with a shout of Finn’s name that echoes against the brick wall and leaves Finn beyond smugly pleased with himself.

He coughs as he eases back, spits a little into a Kleenex, and grins up at Poe.

“Well?” he asks, voice hoarse.

“Oh, fuck,” Poe replies, his knees wobbling slightly as he sways from side to side, his balance clearly thrown off by his orgasm. “You’re gonna kill me, sounding like that all night.”

Poe looks entirely debauched with his hair a mess, his shirt half unbuttoned, and his suit completely wrinkled. 

“I always make good on my deals,” Finn promises, getting back to his feet and helping to zip Poe back up, though he leaves the rest of him the mess that he is, taking obscene pleasure in the thought of the papers taking pictures of him like this all night.

“Don’t worry,” Poe guarantees, still breathing a little too hard. “I’ll pay you back.”

Finn’s pretty pleased with that kind of guarantee, because he knows from years of experience that Poe really is as good as his word.

* * *

Rey calls them the next morning, clearly disappointed. “I saw the pictures of Poe at the after-party. Finn, you absolute cock-whore,” she huffs, sounding way too dignified for what she’s saying. “I could practically see your handiwork through the lens.”

Finn feels inordinately proud, leaning over to draw circles on Poe’s chest as they lay sprawled in the mussed bed (which saw rounds two through five last night). He hangs up when she promises to call back at a more normal hour, grumbling about his lack of decency, shooting off a quick ‘love you’ before she hangs up.

“Whas’at?” Poe mumbles, not bothering to open his eyes. 

“Rey’s disappointed in us,” Finn replies, curling up alongside him. “I think she could tell how many times you came from the online pictures alone.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Poe replies, “it’s clearly the shirt buttons that gave it away. One undone button for every orgasm.” 

Finn laughs warmly as he digs himself a deeper cocoon in the blankets, refusing to get too far from Poe. “I’ll call up Page Six and let them know.”

“You do that.”

On the table beside them, Poe’s new award looms over them and Finn feels like they’ve started a new tradition he sees no point of stopping. They’re better together than they ever were apart and it turns out that it’s never too late to start making new, amazing memories.


	3. leave no man behind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finn's hundreds of miles away from Poe and home when he injures himself on a weekend retreat, but that's not going to stop Poe from fixing Finn.

“You know, I could make one call…”

“To who?” Finn interrupts Poe with a disbelieving look, grabbing his favorite pair of pants out of Poe’s hands to put them back in the suitcase from where Poe had taken them out. Despite Poe’s best attempts to slowly unpack everything Finn puts in, he’s making some progress in packing for the weekend team-building retreat with the Reserves. “I’ll be gone a grand total of forty-eight hours. You’ve known about this trip for months.”

“You said I could go with you,” Poe argues. “I booked off time.”

“I said I’d _try_ and find out if you could come,” Finn replies, packing away a few t-shirts. “It’s not my fault you got eager and booked off the weekend.”

“So now I’ll be sitting alone…”

“With BB-8 and Rey and our friends.”

“…pining away for my gorgeous fiancé…”

“And you could always do some work and write,” Finn interrupts, giving Poe a pointed look. “That script you want to write so badly isn’t going to finish itself.” Finn knows that much more of this and he’s probably going to end up giving in and staying at home, which isn’t good for his career but will end up being good for his sex life. He resolves not to fold, staying stubborn, and knows he has to stay strong. “Poe, I’m going. It’s just a weekend.”

Poe stares at him suspiciously, but seems willing to consent to losing Finn for that long. “Okay, but I expect a call tomorrow night.”

“Write five pages and you’ll get it. Maybe we’ll even have phone sex if you make it to ten.”

For all that Poe’s forlorn sigh is actually a fairly good last-ditch attempt at getting Finn to stay, it’s not enough. He tucks away the last of his things and secures his bag, crawling atop the bed on all fours to cup Poe’s cheek. 

“Come on,” he repeats, a fond grin on his face. “It’s just a weekend away. What’s the worst that can happen?”

* * *

He never should have tempted fate. That’s all that Finn can think about as he lies writhing on the ground, his back aching from spasms. He’s wondering whether this is the universe coming down to gleefully cackle in his face and remind him that you never, not ever, ask what the worst possible thing that can happen is.

This feels pretty close to the worst.

“Don’t move, buddy,” Slip says, clasping onto his shoulders tightly. “Come on, Finn. Stay still, or your movie star is gonna find a hotshot lawyer and sue the hell out of this place and I like it. It’s got good food.”

“It serves fucking meat muffins,” Finn spits out, his patience at an all-time low given how quick he is to slinging around profanities at this exact moment. He lets out another sharp cry of pain when his back gives out again.

They’d been running a recon exercise in the woods while snipers and other enemy combatants hid in order to ready an ambush. He and Slip had been paired up with a map and told they had to secure the flag from the enemy’s base. Everything had been going just fine right up until the moment they were caught out and one of the ambush officers let loose a volley of bean bag bullets. Slip had taken one and gone down, but they still had a chance.

Finn, ever the hero, hadn’t hesitated in picking up Slip to keep them moving, but they’d only made it another fifty feet before Finn crumpled to the ground, his back muscles giving out on him and causing shooting pains in his backs and his legs. It hurt to breathe, and Finn couldn’t even imagine getting up. His mind is hyperactively worrying about slipped discs and all the other kinds of injuries that might ruin him permanently. 

“I’m calling this in,” Slip insists, wincing as he rubs at the spot the bean bag had hit him. “And I’m calling Mr. Dameron.”

“How?” Finn wonders, hissing as another bolt of pain travels through him. “And what the hell, he’s Poe, not Mr. Dameron.”

“He gave me his number,” Slip confesses apologetically, “just in case. And he’s your famous movie star fiancé. I’m not on a first name basis with that.” Slip drags the satellite phone from his pack and gets the call in to headquarters, holding tenderly onto his leg where the bean bag had taken him out, forcing him to limp (and forcing Finn to choose to carry him).

Even wracked with pain and barely conscious, Finn hears the second Slip tells Poe about what’s happened. He hears the shocked ‘what the fuck?’ and the cool commanding tone Poe always gets when he’s really serious about something.

“I’m _fine_!” he barks out loudly, trying to get Poe to stop worrying.

As if he could somehow do that when he’s injured a couple hundred miles from home. It doesn’t work, anyhow. Finn hisses as another sharp burst of pain shoots through his back, not exactly enough for him to drown out the sound of Poe making arrangements to get him out of there. Finn slumps back and starts getting used to the idea of having someone so furiously overprotective of him, but it makes him rankle a little because he’s always been able to handle himself.

“Okay,” Slip says a few minutes later, turning hopeful blue eyes on him. “He’s coming to get you and headquarters say they’re sending a medic out here for the both of us. We’re gonna be fine, Finn.”

The one thing Finn had never really stopped to consider is that just because he’s always looked after himself before, it doesn’t mean that he has to do it on his own, now. Those are part of the vows – the very same ones that have been giving Finn a hard time, just because he has no clue what he’s meant to say that will even show Poe a fraction of what he really feels. Sure, Poe goes a little too far when it comes to making sure Finn’s okay and can sometimes overly coddle him, but he’d rather have that than nothing at all.

“Just take it easy,” Slip instructs, collapsing with a _thump_ beside him, the both of them propping the other up while they deal with their pain. “Thanks, by the way.”

“What, for saving your life?” Finn cracks, trying to get his breathing under control. “You’re welcome. And you owe me.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll get you back later.”

Finn closes his eyes and lets himself fade into a distracted state, with the promise of medical aid and Poe Dameron flying to his rescue – and that last thought is enough to put a drowsy, pained smile on his face.

* * *

Being engaged to a movie star has some pretty awesome perks.

“You’re glowing,” Finn tells Rey, poking his finger at her and gasping. “My finger is glowing _too_!”

“What did you give him?” Rey demands, leaning back to shout at Poe in the bathroom (who’s currently changing into some new clothes).

“It’s vicodin for his back,” Poe calls back. “Just make sure he doesn’t escape, again, and I’ll be there in two minutes. You can go home after that. Thanks, again, for watching him while I ran errands.”

“I love Finn when he’s doped up,” Rey says fondly. “I get blackmail material for … you are _not_ wearing that. Poe Dameron!” she accuses. 

Finn’s confused, watching the dialogue between the two of them like a tennis match, but when his vision focuses a little better on Poe, he’s starting to understand why Rey is yelling at him. “Dr. Storm,” he says brightly, because Poe is wearing the ridiculously tight scrubs that he’d worn for the miniseries where he’d played an ER doctor in downtown LA.

It had been very well received by the critics, though it had led to about ten articles talking about why Poe’s costume had to be so tight (and half of those articles had just been grateful for that fact).

Poe grins and waggles his brows flirtatiously at Rey, which gets Finn slightly upset. “Hey,” Finn protests, slumping forward to try and get in their line of sight. “Stop making eyes at my best friend. You’re marrying me.”

“Yes, dear,” Poe sighs and sits down on the bed. “Rey, help me out before you go?”

“What am I doing?”

“We need to get him on his stomach,” Poe guides. “And then you can go. I don’t think the screams are gonna be pretty.”

“Wait,” Finn clues in from his drugged haze, “Wait. _Screams_? Rey, don’t leave me. Rey, don’t leave me alone here with this maniac…” He keeps babbling, but has the suspicion that none of his words have actually been coherent given the cheerful way Rey kisses his cheek (because she wouldn’t actually leave him in this kind of distress, would she? Okay, maybe she should, but only after he’s pissed her off).

Lying prone and face down on the bed, Finn feels Poe slide the blankets off his bare back, hissing at a heat-pad being pressed to the aching area. 

“Poe?”

“Shh, relax,” he says. “This might hurt a little, but I didn’t take those massage classes for nothing.”

“Why do you know massage?”

“Because there was a very long film shoot in Thailand and my part got drastically reduced, so I had to do something instead of lying around all day. Why not learn massage therapy?”

It turns out to not entirely be the kind of massage therapy that has Finn a relaxed pool of bliss, but the kind that makes him twist up and turn, let out sharp cries of pain despite the vicodin doing a good job at numbing him. 

Poe keeps hitting these trigger points, but eventually they start to fade into dull aches and Finn hasn’t got much fight left in him, collapsing into the bed and forgetting the rough use of the English language. Poe gives his ass a little pat as he curls in next to him, so they’re lying face to face on the bed – practically nose to nose.

“Hi,” Poe says, in a teasing whisper.

Finn grunts his reply.

“Next time, I’m coming with you,” says Poe, but this one isn’t so teasing. This one is a demand that says ‘deny me at your own risk’. “Okay? So then when your buddy goes down, you’ve got one extra set of hands to help.”

Finn can only imagine the tabloids getting a hold of that, but he doesn’t have the energy to think strategically about Poe’s career for him (which is becoming his responsibility more and more lately). Right now, all he’s got the energy for is wrapping his arms around Poe’s waist as he burrows into the warmth of his body, taking solace in the fact that he’s so damn lucky.

And so damn drugged up.

Poe smoothes his palm over Finn’s forehead before pressing a kiss to the skin. “Rest, okay? And when you wake up, there’s a hot bath waiting for you and I’ll be very, very naked in it.”

Finn’s smile is slow and lopsided, hindered by the drugs, but despite the pain in his back, he thinks this may be the very best time he’s ever had in his life.


	4. space to spare

The key’s been sitting in Poe’s sock drawer for ten days.

It’s been there so long because every time he thinks it’s the _right_ time to give it to Finn, something happens. Something like Finn talking about his awful relationship with Ben and how they’d moved in together only for disaster to strike or the tabloids running some awful story about him, or it’s just their friends getting in their way.

Poe’s been an actor for a long time and he’s well aware of how ridiculous his schedule can be, but having to actually have his PA book in dinner with his boyfriend just to get some private time with him seems pretty far, even for him. Even Finn says as much, giving him a wary look when the calendar alert pops up in his phone.

“Poe, is this a joke?”

They’re lying in bed. Poe’s reading scripts and Finn is checking emails, but the alert must mean that Ello is doing his job and getting things ready. Poe sets a script down and glances over at Finn to gauge his temperature. “No?”

“You don’t have to schedule dinner with me.”

“I do,” Poe replies, very seriously. “Read the notes.”

Finn sighs and stares down at his phone again. “Come alone,” he reads. “No, really, come alone. Rey is a lovely girl, but not invited. No Reys Allowed.” He drops the phone and levels a disbelieving look at Poe. “ _Seriously_?”

Okay, maybe giving Ello creative control of his calendar hadn’t been the best idea.

“She’s been at a lot of our dinners lately,” Poe admits apologetically, because he doesn’t want to open the can of worms that leads to them arguing about Rey’s presence in their lives. “Which I love!” he hurries to add, when Finn furrows his brow in that way that means he’s about to bicker with him. “I just think it’d be nice to have some time to ourselves.”

And maybe Poe could actually get that damn key into Finn’s hands so he could ask him the question that’s been haunting his dreams for ages.

Finn shakes his head and returns to his phone, making a very deliberate show of pressing a button. Poe waits expectantly and hears the chirp of his phone telling him that he’s received the reply. “You said yes, right?” he checks, because he thinks grabbing his phone to text Finn when they’re lying beside each other in bed might be going a little far.

Finn shoots him a dubious look, which means that the answer is ‘yes’ and Poe should shut up.

He bites his lip and does exactly that, but once Finn returns to his phone, Poe finds that he can’t focus on the words on the scripts. Instead, now that the dinner is planned, he keeps thinking about all the ways it could go wrong once Poe pops the ‘will you move in with me?’ question. 

What if Finn says no because he doesn’t want to live this kind of lavish lifestyle? They’ve argued (never seriously, but enough) before about how Finn wants to live a little simpler, but Poe’s fallen in love with his mansion by the sea and how it has the kind of privacy he can’t get from a smaller place in town. 

Or what if Finn doesn’t think they’re ready for this yet? His past relationships have left him somewhat wary and he might say no when Poe asks him to move in. 

Why the hell hasn’t Poe ever done this before? 

Except, then it occurs to him. He doesn’t have to have the experience. He just has to know someone who has. With a little more confidence, Poe smiles and knows that he’s going to do this right. If he fucks it up, he’s pretty sure that he’ll never exactly recover since this is the next big step when it comes to his and Finn’s relationship.

To the experts, he goes.

* * *

“Rey, have you ever been in a serious relationship?”

“With my career and a string of bad dates,” Rey replies while they wait in line for coffee. “Why?”

“Making conversation,” he lies, because it’s a pretty deep conversation to be having and it’s not exactly helping, since you can’t exactly ask your career to move in with you. Well, you could, but it’s pretty much the start of a very sad life.

Poe makes a mental note to set Rey up with a friend because now he feels bad about bringing it up.

* * *

“Jess? You ever move in with someone?”

“Me?” Jess echoes. “Other than your guest room, you mean.”

“The guest room you’re squatting in without permission?” Poe reminds her helpfully. 

“What, is that the time? I gotta get out of here,” Jess says, checking her watch. “It is just … _time_ to go to the …I’m still allowed to stay, right?”

Poe sighs. “Yeah, you can stick around.”

It’s not like he can’t afford to keep his friends happy, fed, and warm.

* * *

In the end, help comes from the most unlikely of sources. Finn’s out for a run and Poe is waiting for him at their favorite coffee shop, reading the latest newspaper and trying to ignore the article in the entertainment section about their terrible review of his last mediocre movie.

“I heard a rumor that you’ve been asking around for advice on having someone move in with you.”

Poe cranes his neck up (and up) to see Ben looming above him. It’s not that he dislikes Finn’s ex, it’s just that he’s been really good about avoiding conversations with him when they don’t have a buffer between them.

“You should just ask him.”

“Jesus,” Poe hisses, frantically gaping around him. “How the hell do you know?”

Ben stares at him dubiously. “Honestly, you’ve been running your mouth asking pretty much everyone here and it’s a small town. I’m surprised Finn hasn’t heard, but he always did have a habit of keeping his nose out of trouble. It means he sometimes misses the obvious, like when he’s dating a movie star or when that movie star is ineffectually trying to get him to move in with him.”

Poe presses his lips together, shooting Ben an unhappy look. “It’s complicated. I mean, it’s not like he leapt happily into moving in with you,” he points out. That’s pretty much been Poe’s sticking point. Ben had asked Finn to move in with him, but the answer had been no. Ever since hearing that, Poe’s been a little worried that Finn’s going to find some reason not to move in with Poe, either.

And really, that’d be the beginning of the end, as far as he’s concerned.

Ben sits down without being invited, but Poe supposes that if they’re going to end up talking about their common link, it’s better this way than Ben looming like a shadow over Poe. “Finn and I didn’t work for a lot of reasons. We weren’t right for each other and I think we both realized that when the topic of moving in happened. Neither of us spent much time at the other’s place. Moving in was a band-aid to try and fix the time we spent apart. Instead, it just forced us to realize that when we were actively trying to find ways to spend the time apart, we probably weren’t going to make it together. I don’t think it’s like that for you. You’re both sickeningly attached at the hip,” Ben says with disdain. 

“Oh, like you and your new boy toy are better.”

“I think he would have your head if you called him a boy toy,” Ben replies.

“He can have anything he wants, seeing as he’s the reason I’m with Finn,” Poe replies, never having seen the Huxter settling in with Ben Solo, of all people. Then again, maybe their rough edges just fit together in the right way that they never could when it was Ben and Finn.

Ben stands and gives Poe a look brimming with disdain and pity. “Just ask him,” he says sharply. “It’s just a key. If he turns out to hate you, he’ll just start crashing at Rey’s again.”

“Wow,” Poe remarks, half in awe at the comment, “and here I thought you couldn’t get even more optimistic,” he notes with heavy sarcasm, even though Ben’s actually put him a little at ease. He’s right. They already spend their time together and Finn’s given no indication that he wants to do that any less. He shouldn’t be worried. Ben doesn’t even dignify that with a response, plucking his latte from the barista who comes to serve it to him, saluting Poe with it as he goes.

The barista lingers at the table when Ben leaves, looking apprehensive and wary.

Poe sighs. “He said I’d pay for his drink, didn’t he?”

She nods, meekly.

“Yeah, I should’ve seen that one coming.”

* * *

In the end, Poe cancels the fancy dinner invitation and the lavish plans for roses and string quartets and lasagnas. He shouldn’t need an epic to ask Finn a simple question. He and Finn fit together comfortably. They don’t need fireworks or mad recitations of poetry.

Poe tells Finn the truth.

He’s never felt as whole as he does than when he’s with Finn and he can’t imagine a future that Finn doesn’t feature prominently in. “So,” Poe goes on, fingers sliding over Finn’s as they sit curled up on the couch. “Will you move in with me?” he asks, nudging the key out from its place in his pocket, tucking it into Finn’s hands.

Finn gives Poe an amused look, bordering on sympathetic.

“What? What’s that look for?”

“Poe, Jess gave me a key months ago,” he says, shaking his head with wonder. “I already thought I _had_ moved in with you. Is this why you’ve been acting weird? Is this why Rey keeps patting my head and calling me a poor oblivious fawn?”

“I mean, that could be for plenty of reasons…” Poe’s feeling a little knocked askew right now, but he’s also feeling completely and immensely filled with relief. It means that he and Finn are actually taking this next step. He’s about to say something else, but Finn prevents that from happening when he mauls Poe and pins him to the bed with a very convincing kiss that makes an argument for abandoning conversation all together.

Finn’s right, Poe reasons. This is something they can discuss later after they have some very vigorous ‘thank you for moving in with me, apparently’ sex. 

Finn’s _very_ persuasive, after all. It’s a good thing Poe’s managed to get somebody that persuasive to move in with him. There’s no telling when those skills will come in handy.


	5. how to make a trash bag look good

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Poe invited Finn to come be an extra on set, he didn't exactly stop to think about how it might affect him.

Finn is bored.

He doesn’t often get to say that, but there are some periods in his life where he genuinely hasn’t got anything to do at work. Rey’s busy (out of town at a conference, as it happens) and none of Poe’s friends are around because they’re with Poe – on a film shoot down the coast. Finn had begged off, saying he needed some time to himself.

The problem with that is finding out how empty their house happens to be when you’re on your own and haven’t got anything to do. Everything echoes, he swears he’s seeing things out of the corner of his eye, and he hasn’t even got BB-8 to entertain him because Jess had nabbed the dog before leaving for the shoot.

“Babe, just come,” Poe says over the phone that night, “I’ll even get you set up working as an extra.”

It’s the unending boredom that decides for him. He packs an overnight bag and leaves behind the silent house for a little apartment bustling with noise, friends, and the man he loves. BB-8 nearly tackles him to the ground when Snap lets him inside and even though the noise is overwhelming and he knows this won’t be restful, it’s also the only place he cares about being.

“Did you tell him yet?” Jess asks excitedly, opening beers for the group.

“Tell me what?” Finn asks warily, letting out an ‘oof’ when Poe drops into his lap without warning. 

Poe feeds him a few of the candies from the bowl on the table. “I told you that if you came up here, I’d keep you busy. I talked the director into putting you with the extras in the crowd scene at the restaurant, when I’m seducing the lead actress.”

“You just want me to watch you work,” Finn accuses, smirking as the playful jibe is on the tip of his tongue, “Good thing I know it takes a script for your best lines.”

Poe presses his hand to his heart, but instead of giving in to the jeers around them, he leans down and kisses Finn, mumbling a quick “I missed you” against his lips as he drifts in a little closer, as close as they can get without their friends starting to give them shit for spending all their time together playing lovebirds.

Even though it’s noisy at night and they can’t do anything with their friends sleeping about five feet away from them when they pass out from too many beers, Finn feels like he can sleep better than he has since Poe left. 

The set is nothing he hasn’t seen before, but Poe still drapes his arm around Finn’s shoulder and leads him around to introduce him to everyone and tells him little secrets about the film production so far. Finn is completely unsurprised to know that Poe already knows everyone by first name and even has little facts about them.

He leaves Finn with wardrobe, pressing a kiss to his cheek, and heads off to get changed for the scene.

The head costumer is a sweet woman who hands Finn a pair of jeans and a dark green shirt, eyeing him up and down. “I mean,” she notes, her Irish accent, “he mentioned that you were attractive, but I’m going to have to dress you fairly drably if we want to keep people’s attention off you,” she finishes with an apology, handing him the big clothes.

Finn isn’t sure that he’s Mr. December, but it’s nice to know that apparently Poe’s descriptions of him aren’t going above and beyond, because occasionally Poe does that little habit of being really positively hyperbolic.

It’s cute. 

It’s also gotten them into some _situations_ when Finn finds out that Poe’s just being Poe about something and it’s not the best thing in the universe (which has included, historically, margaritas, dance clubs, a not-so-great hairdresser, and music. Always with the music)

He thanks the woman as he changes into the clothes and heads out to set to let the director sit him at a table in the back where he can face Poe and see him work during the scene. Not that it’s glamorous exactly. He’s seen Poe work enough times to know that one good take can often be a few hours of camera angles, lighting cues, and retakes. 

So, Finn uses the time in between takes to make friends with the other guy sitting at the table with them, talking about the latest movies they’ve seen (and for Finn, it’s not many because despite how much Poe and their friends have tried, he’s still kind of awful about keeping up to date with modern media).

Finally, the director breaks their talking up for the first take.

Finn’s pretty excited to get this going, doing his best to sit in the background and not call attention to himself. He catches Poe’s eyes a few times and has to end up smiling into his empty mug of coffee, feeling like he’s getting all flushed from just a stupid look.

Sometimes, he’s not surprised half the country’s in love with Poe, not when he can reduce you to feelings like this with just one look.

“All right, cut!” the director calls. He goes over to have a conference with Poe and the actress before they start again.

And then it happens again. And again.

Finally, on take four, the director calls for a break. Most of the extras head over to the craft services table, but before Finn can join them, Poe’s there standing in front of his table as he runs his hand through his hair to send his curls ruffling (Finn’s pretty sure he can hear the hairstylist moan in pain, even from here). 

“Hey, Poe,” Finn greets warmly. “I’d offer you a cup, but…you know,” he says, tipping the empty mug in Poe’s direction.

“Hey, babe,” Poe greets, letting out a slow exhalation, “Listen, I hate to be the asshole boyfriend, but remember how I said that you could come hang out on set and watch me work, that I got you a role as an extra?”

“Yeah,” Finn replies, starting to get suspicious.

“You’re kind of fired.”

“What? What the hell?” Finn’s eyes widen in alarm. “Did I do something wrong?”

“It’s not really you, exactly,” Poe says, clearing his throat. “So, remember how I said that this is the scene where I’m supposed to seduce the main character and get her to trust me? Apparently, every time we run the scene, my line of sight keeps going to the handsome extra sitting in the back of the restaurant.” 

Finn’s righteous anger fades away when he realizes the problem. Then, he can’t help his smug smirk as he settles back in his chair, stretching out to take up all the space around him. “I’m too handsome, am I? The great Poe Dameron can’t manage to break himself away from staring at me?”

“Yeah, yeah, shut up,” Poe replies, bending down to steal a kiss from Finn’s lips. “I’ll make it up to you later, promise. Sorry for getting you fired, but it’s not my fault I keep staring at you. Even in that bag of a shirt, you’re the most gorgeous thing around for miles.” He cups Finn’s neck for some leverage as he leans over for a longer kiss. 

So, okay, Finn’s been fired for the first time in his life, but as he’s led away to watch the scene from a vantage point that Poe can’t see him from, he’s also experiencing the best ego boost in his _life_ and he’s already determined to never let Poe forget this, not as long as they live.

This is definitely better than sitting at home talking to himself in that big house.


End file.
